My parents had a few basic behavioral expectations of their children when in the company of adults, most particularly, ladies. When it came to bad manners, there was no faster path to an old-fashioned butt whippin’ than spouting off some rude comment within the earshot of a proper lady or gentleman. I grew to understand that among adults, respect is a two-way street. Give it always and eventually expect it in return. Man, have things changed.
To me, one of the most basic signs of decent manners and respect for others is in the keeping of appointments. I can’t count the times I heard growing up, “Better to be an hour early than a minute late.” I get it. When I make an appointment with someone for a home service or health care, oil change or whatever it may be, that person blocks out the agreed-upon time to take care of my needs. If I don’t show up or I’m late, that service is losing money because I’m not there when I said I would be. At best it is inconvenient, disrespectful and rude.
Some think of an appointment time as an approximation — you know, give or take a few minutes. I’m not built that way. If I’ve agreed to be somewhere at 2:30, I’ll be there at 2:30, not a minute later. More likely, I’ll be in the parking lot 10 minutes earlier listening to Waylon through my hearing aids. But at the agreed-upon time, as I am where I am supposed to be, so should be the party I am to meet.
The doctor had the size, appearance, and congenial bedside manner of a rabid badger, so I’ll call him Dr. Badger, M.D. Even so, I thought we might be a perfect fit once we ironed out the details concerning who works for whom. But from the beginning, it wasn’t looking anything like a healthy doctor-patient relationship. His office was just a half-block from mine, so I wanted it to work. At our first appointment, I left and went back to my office after 20 minutes in the waiting room. On the way out, I asked the receptionist to call me with another appointment when she could.
At our second appointment, I was escorted into the examining room after 15 minutes, where I waited another 15 minutes. I then left and requested to reschedule on the way out.
This time the good doctor called me at my office, explaining something about an emergency and he had gotten back to his office as quickly as he could, blah, blah, blah. (His tan Jaguar was in its parking spot behind the building when I arrived.) He apologized and said there should be no similar delays in future visits. I agreed that there shouldn’t and he put me through to his assistant, who made a third appointment.
The third appointment, two weeks later, seemed like it was finally going to be worth the trouble. When I arrived, the receptionist recognized me and immediately showed me into the examining room. Within a few minutes a nurse appeared, took the usual information and vitals, then handed me a blue prom dress from the cabinet and asked me to slip into it with the opening in the back. She left the room with a reassuring smile, saying, “The doctor will be right in.”
The doctor did not come right in. Not in 10 minutes nor 20. When at 25 minutes in the exam room I still had not met Dr. Badger and had not put on the blue prom dress for just this reason, I wandered out through the lobby without making another appointment.
It was Monday the following week when the doctor called my office. He was asked to leave a message, which was for me to call his office right away. I considered what “right away” must mean to this gentleman and called him first thing the following Monday morning. We talked about the three appointments I had walked out of and he said that it had never happened before in his career as a physician. I said I had never before been stood up three times by a professional in any field.
“Stood up? What are you talking about?” his voice raised a notch.
I said, “We had an agreement to meet and conduct a particular business at a specific time and at a specific place, correct?”
Dr. B. said, “You called the office and made an appointment for a physical, I believe. I don’t see those.”
“But your calendar is your responsibility — literally your business. So, at the agreed-upon place and time, I was there. On three occasions at the agreed-upon place and time, you were a no-show. I can’t think of a more insulting way to introduce yourself to a new patient, Doc.”
“Wait! You do understand that I am the doctor here, don’t you?”
It was about here that I shifted into four-wheel sarcasm so as not to be left behind.
“Well, I’m just going on the information in the Yellow Pages, so I can’t be sure …”
Click.
The good doctor retired not long after our conversation and died of a heart attack or rabies or something a year later. I’m not happy about that, but really, that fella was giving rabid badgers a very bad name.
